


Broken Wand Gone Wrong

by alliepi314



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: ? - Freeform, Accidental Bonding, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, F/M, Fluffy Ending, Forced Bonding, Hogwarts Eighth Year, I Tried, My First Work in This Fandom, Not Epilogue Compliant, Redeemed Draco Malfoy, Slow Burn, Soul Bond, Spell Failure, mostly - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-21
Updated: 2018-10-08
Packaged: 2019-07-15 06:57:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16057889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alliepi314/pseuds/alliepi314
Summary: “Granger?”Startled, Hermione spun her head to lock eyes with Malfoy of all people just as a solitary tear slid down her cheek.Bugger. Maybe he didn’t see, she thought swiftly swiping a hand across her cheek. She looked at his expression, caught between mild concern and outright shock. He definitely saw.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welp. I did my best. Hope you all will get a kick out of this fic. We'll see how far I make it.

“That’s it Ron! I’ve had it with your careless habits! I’m done trying to change you!” Hermione said as she made towards the common room exit.

“But Hermione! It’s not my fault I broke my wand, I wasn’t even the same room when it happened! If you want to blame somebody, blame Seamus! He’s the one who sat on it!” he whined as he shuffled after her.

“It’s not about who’s fault it is Ron. You cannot just set your wand anywhere and expect it to be fine! You especially can’t expect it to remain unharmed when you leave it on a public armchair for hours and hours. And what’s more! Seamus apologized and you’re still putting the blame on him.” She stepped through the portrait, pushing her bushy head of hair behind her shoulders.

“But Hermion-” Hermione stopped short and whipped around, looking at him seriously.

“Ron just listen. Normally I would be able to put this behind us, but the first thing you did when you broke your wand was come to me and expect me to solve your problems for you. And you’ve done this over and over ever since we started dating. I’m your girlfriend, not your mom. We’ve talked about this before and you still haven’t changed the way you treat me-”

“It’s not like I want you to fix all my issues!” he said, face contorted into something akin to self-pity.

“Yet you still act like it! Ron, I realize now that it’s unfair of me to expect you to change.”

“Really? I-”

“Let me finish,” she said, schooling her expression into a stern flatness, “It’s unfair to expect you change just because we started dating, but I can’t change either. Ron. We’re not right for each other.” She glanced down at her shoes, regretful.

Ron sucked in a sharp breath, gobsmacked, “You- You can’t be serious. Hermione, I’m sorry for everything I’ve done. But you can’t do this to me! We’re in love!”

“We _were_ in love, Ron. I wish this relationship could have gone farther-

“IT CAN! The the only reason it can’t is because of what you are doing right now!”

“Were you even listening to me! I’ll say it one more time. I can’t live like this! You come and vent everything on me all the time! You never have anything good to say, and you are always asking me to do things that are your responsibility! And now that I know you can’t change, I know that what we have will only end in utter disaster.” She turned to leave.

“Hermione wait!” Ron said with desperation in his voice, “I can change! Give me another chance!” He leapt forward and grabbed her arm. She shook him off and looked over her shoulder

“You’ve had your chances, Ron. It’s over.” And with that, Hermione strode down the corridor, away from Ron.

“Hermione!” he called after her, but there was no hesitation in her stride and she soon was out of his sight.

Ron stood alone in the corridor for several minutes trying to process what just happened. Finally he turned back to the fat lady portrait to enter the common room. She gave him a sympathetic look as she swung upon for his re-entry.

When he stepped inside, he noticed that everyone had gotten quiet upon his arrival. Harry was looking at him with concern in his eyes. Ron brushed past him to the boys' dormitory and Harry followed him at a cautious distance.

Ron sat down on his bed with a thump, still in shock. He looked up when Harry stepped towards him.

“I suppose everyone heard that then,” he muttered.

“Well, neither of you were really all that quiet,” Harry said with a hum, settling on an adjacent bed. Ron just grunted in reply and let himself fall back on the bed.

“What am I supposed to do? I love her.”

“I don’t know mate. Maybe start by apologizing?”

“For what? I haven’t done anything to deserve this,” he exclaimed.

“Alright Ron. Start by thinking about what you need to apologize for. Trust me on this, when Ginny is upset with me, all it takes is remembering what I forgot to do and fixing it with an apology and some flowers. Once you figured out why you’re in the wrong, then go say sorry. There’s no point in a false apology, and women can always tell when you don’t mean it.”

“I, I guess you’re right. Thanks Harry,” he mumbled pushing the meaty part of his hands onto his closed eyes.

“No problem mate, just don’t ask me to get involved. I’ve learned well enough by now not to get between you two,” Harry said with a dry chuckle as he got up and left the room to Ron.

 

* * *

 

Not sure where to go, Hermione of course ended up in the library. She had found a small table in a corner behind some bookshelves and, several hours later now, was trying to read page one hundred and ninety-two of _How to Move On: A guide to ending long-term relationships_ by Melstrup Hubbler.

She couldn’t focus. Her eyes kept sliding over a few paragraphs without taking in the words and she would have to reread them. Only, on page one hundred and ninety-two, it happened again and again until she gave up out of frustration and let the book slide out of her grasp and fall open-faced on the table. She let her head roll back and studied the ceiling, going over the argument with Ron in her head.

 _Am I making the right choice?_ She was already eighteen, having come back to Hogwarts with the majority of her classmates for a chance to get the education that was disrupted their seventh year. She had no strong desire for children, at least until she had a strong career established, but Ron was meant to be her husband right? They were best friends since eleven for Merlin’s sake!

Hermione shook her head to dismiss these thoughts. _We’re not happy together. Ron and I work better as friends._ Her resolve was firmened with this, even as her eyes started to get the tell-tale sting of incoming tears.

 _Ugh, I’m_ not _going to cry over Ron five hours after dumping him._ She blinked several times to try and suppress the tears but the sting only grew into a burn. She stared determinedly at the off-white ceiling for several minutes, but the urge to cry refused to subside. She weakened. After all, no one was even here to see her breakdown. Who was she trying to impress?

“Granger?”

Startled, Hermione spun her head to lock eyes with Malfoy of all people just as a solitary tear slid down her cheek.

 _Bugger. Maybe he didn’t see,_ she thought swiftly swiping a hand across her cheek. She looked at his expression, caught between mild concern and outright shock. _He definitely saw._

“Malfoy. Just the person I wanted to see today,” she said, deadpan. He raised both hands in surrender.

“Relax Granger, not everything is about you. I’m only here for a book,” he reached over and pulled a thick tome from the shelf with hardly a glance at it, “which I have now, so I’ll just leave you to cry over Weasel.”

“I wasn’t crying,” she grumbled.

“Oh right, and I’m not Draco Malfoy,” he said with a sneer, which disappeared as quickly as it begun. Weird. With a sudden thought, Hermione’s face adopted a look of confusion.

“How did you know it was about Ron? Is the Hogwarts’ rumor mill really that fast?” She trailed off at the end, thinking. They had been arguing rather loudly.

“Please. As if I have to rely on something so plebian as a rumor. Of course it’s about Weasel. He’s the only thing you could be crying about.”

“I wasn’t crying,” she said louder.

“Whatever you say Granger, but between you and me, if a weasel was my boyfriend, I’d be crying too,” Draco remarked, smirking now. Hermione got very still and quiet at that, and the sting in her eyes returned. “Sweet Merlin, the rumors are true then. Well, my condolences I suppose.”

“Yeah…” She could feel the tears returning and she blinked rapidly to keep them at bay.

“Dear Merlin. Please don’t start crying. People will blame me, Granger,” Draco muttered a bit desperately, glancing around the library. “Listen, if it makes you feel any better, I’ll plot your revenge. I’m always down to mess with a Weasley, just please don’t cry,” he said stepping forward. “My reputation can’t handle another hit.”

“Oh, well, we wouldn’t want that! God forbid you actually care about someone!” Hermione snapped at him before crossing her arms on the table and shoving her face in them. “How about you just leave me alone, Malfoy,” she mumbled into her arms, but her words lacked venom. Malfoy shuffled his feet for a moment before looking skyward.

“I can’t believe I’m about to do this,” he said under his breath as he stepped forward to place a comforting hand on Hermione’s shoulder. Just before he made contact with her thick woolen sweater, his ears were bombarded by a shouted spell.

“ANIMA REPELLO!”

Draco whipped around to cast a protego but he had been taken entirely by surprise, and he was too late. He was quickly overtaken with the feeling of a sharp tug in his chest, as if his heart was trying to escape, combined with a warmth suffusing his whole body. He looked down at his chest and noticed that it was emitting a very faint, yellowish glow. He immediately turned to Hermione, who seemed just as shocked as him going by her overly-wide eyes and raised eyebrows, and he could see the same nearly undetectable glow if he focused. Hermione’s expression was quickly turning into outrage.

Draco finally looked up again to see that their attacker was none other than the Weasel himself. He was angrily clutching a somewhat beat up bouquet of roses and had his wand thrust in front of him, pointing directly at Draco. The wand in question had a long crack down the center and was noticeably crooked. It looked decidedly broken.

“GET AWAY FROM HER YOU FERRET!” shouted Ron at full volume despite how close he was.

“How like a weasel to scream in a library,” Malfoy sneered, “I imagine next you’ll cast another spell at me with your broken wand. Maybe this one will actually do something.”

Hermione stood suddenly and stalked toward Ron, lividity in every stride. With even but biting tone, she seethed, “I cannot believe you, Ron Weasley. Where do I even start? First of all, you have no business interfering with mine and Draco’s conversation. Second, you clearly lack even an ounce of self control to be _attacking_ him as soon as you see him. For that matter, I can defend myself perfectly well, as you should know. And finally,” she took a deep breath, “HOW DARE YOU CAST WITH A CRACKED WAND! YOU’RE LUCKY YOU DIDN’T KILL EVERYONE IN THIS ROOM! HAVE YOU NO SENSE AT ALL!?” Ron looked torn between shame and frustration.

“Malfoy is dangerous! I was trying to protect you! I thought you’d be grateful.”

“I’ve reached the end of my rope,” Hermione growled before turning to Draco. “Would you mind walking to the Gryffindor’s common room with me? I’m about ready to turn in but I’d like to finish our conversation.” There was a slight lilt to her voice and a look in her eyes that said _play along._

A slow smirk spread across Draco’s face, “Of course, _Hermione_ , he said, moving next to her. “I’d love nothing more.” They left Ron there, fuming.

“He can’t be trusted Hermione!” he shouted after them, but they were already out of sight.

 

* * *

 

Once they had left the library, apologizing to Madam Pince on the way out, Hermione heaved a great sigh and her shoulders slumped.

“I’m sorry about that, Malfoy. Are you okay?”

“Fine Granger, if Weasel’s spells were any less effective he’d might as well be casting with a twig. I suppose you’d like to be left to yourself now. I know that our _conversation_ was hardly that,” Draco muttered, turning away from her.

“No Malfoy, wait please.” Hermione pleaded. “I’m sorry for what I said. I know that after the war, your reputation needs all the help it can get. I know you’ve changed, but not everybody does, and I’d never try to jeopardize your efforts to maintain your image.” Draco did a double take at that, weirdly touched. “I’ll let you go now. And sorry again about Ron.”

“No worries Granger. Your punches do far more damage,” he teased with a renewed smirk. Hermione gave a small smile in return, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

“Goodnight Malfoy,” she said as she turned around a corner and out of his sight.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the next chapter is already done, thought y'all might like having it early. So here you are.

Breakfast was tense at the Gryffindor table the next morning. Hermione pointedly sat next to Harry, and refused to say anything to Ron. Ron, of course, didn’t know how to act. He was upset and angry at Hermione, but mostly he was heartbroken. Hermione nibbled at her bacon halfheartedly and glanced over at the Slytherin table. She could see the back of Draco’s head across the Great Hall. He looked like he was laughing. He glanced behind him and his eyes met Hermione’s. He flashed a haughty smirk at her, and then turned back to his table and said something that had the whole group erupting into laughter. Hermione scowled and shoved the rest of the bacon in her mouth, standing to leave.

“I’ll be in the library,” she muttered to Harry, still chewing.

“What for? Nothing’s due until next week at least,” Harry replied, curious.

“I’m doing some extra credit.”

“Jeez Hermione! It’s only our third week back! You work too much” Ron whined. Hermione ignored him, walking off, presumably to the library.

 

* * *

 

“And so I walked back into the room and said, ‘only the chickens get dessert’” laughed Blaise.

Draco was chuckling along, as he finished off the last of his toast. No matter how many times he heard them, Blaise’s stories never got old. There was a plate of bacon just to his left, and for some reason he was incredibly aware of it now. Suddenly hungry again, he pulled several strips onto his plate and tentatively bit into the corner of one when he felt a strange tingle on the back of his head. He looked over his shoulder to see Granger staring at him. He smirked at her smugly and watched the corners of her mouth turn down in response.

“Draco? Are you eating… bacon? Don’t you hate bacon?” Draco turned back to the table and flashed a smug grin at her.

“Well Pansy, you’re eating some too. Isn’t it cannibalism for a pig to eat bacon?” Draco said snidely, which prompted the whole group, Pansy aside, to burst into uproarious laughter. Draco let himself give a small smile before returning to his thoughts again, slowly making his way through every strip of bacon on his plate.

Once he finished he turned to Blaise who was regaling the group with yet another anecdote from his summer.

“I’m going to go get a head start on our potions essay. See you in class,” he murmured.

“Yeah mate, sounds good,” Blaise said in return, a bit distractedly, before returning to his storytelling.

Draco slipped out of the hall quickly and made his way toward the Slytherin common room to pick up a quill and some parchment. _On second thought, it might be better if I do some research first_ , he thought to himself, diverting his course to the library instead. _I bet Granger’s there too. Great. The library is massive though so with any luck I won’t even see her._ He grimaced at the thought of making awkward conversation with Gryffindor’s golden girl. At least there was no chance he’d be seeing the weasel there. He was probably still stuffing his face at breakfast.

Draco pulled open the heavy library door and went right to the potions section. Snape was having him work on an independent project. He was learning how to brew veritaserum, and extra research was vital to properly brew it. Veritaserum was a particularly finicky potion and the results could vary wildly depending on the brewer's intent. It was most well-known for its qualities as a truth serum, but it also had a variety of uses ranging from purifying substances to preserving potion ingredients.

Draco was not enough of an idiot to try and brew such a complicated potion without thorough research, and in any case, Snape would never allow him to start it without five feet on the possible outcomes of variances in brewing and intent.

Quickly scanning across the potion books, his eyes eventually found the one he was looking for. He pulled the thick text off the shelf and brought it to a table just around the corner before settling in to enrich his mind with _The Intricacies of Brewing a Perfect Truth_ by Toudum Blatter.

He opened the book to its table of contents and a thick plume of dust arose around him at the first motion this book had probably had in years. He held his breath, trying to avoid breathing in the century-old dust, mostly to prevent a coughing fit, which would hardly look dignified, and waved a hand in the air in an attempt to dispel the dust.

After what felt like several minutes, it had settled back into the dingy carpet of the Hogwarts library, and Draco gave a satisfied nod before scanning the contents and flipping through to the section on veritaserum, which took up nearly half of the book. Of course, as he should have expected, this provoked another cloud of dust, which he unwittingly inhaled in his surprise and promptly sneezed loud enough that Madam Pince glared at him from the other end of the bookshelves.

 _Sod it all. I try to be a diligent student for once and I am thwarted by dust of all things! Dust!_ He focused on the chapter once more. If he couldn’t manage to get any studying done after that huge fuss then what would be the point.

Sixty-eight pages and several sneezing fits later, Draco took note of the page he was on and closed the book with a thunk, leaning back in the hard library chair and rubbing at his mildly irritated eyes. He breathed out a sigh. He had to be in class in twenty minutes and the half of the chapter he managed to get through was next to no help. Frustrated did not even begin to cover how he was feeling about the whole thing.

_Well, I suppose Blaise will at least get a kick out it when I tell him. Nothing like a pureblood with allergies when it comes to comedy. He’ll be making fun of me all day though, maybe I shouldn’t tell him after all…_

He got out of the chair with a groan and went to replace Toudum Blatter’s incredibly scintillating text, when he noticed movement from the corner of his eye. All it took has the sllightest turn if his head to confirm his suspicions. No one but Granger had hair like that. And no one but Granger would even consider checking out that many books at once. She seemed caught up in conversation with Madam Pince. Draco could probably sneak past her, no problem.

On silent feet, he moved toward the library door. He had just reached it when,

“Malfoy!”

 _Oh bloody buggering fuck!_ Draco gave a quiet groan and spun on his heel, a scowl on his face,  

“Granger. Pleasure,” he said in a tone that practically screamed _go away_.

“What are you doing here?” Hermione inquired, genuine confusion on her face.

“I was studying. Same as you I assume. Unless you were just having another sob fest over your weasel ex,” Draco snarled. Taken aback, Hermione’s expression went from surprise to anger faster than a cheetah on rollerblades.

“You’re certainly being nasty today. What’s the matter? Sinus issues?” she goaded with a scowl, before brushing past him. “By the way, Malfoy, I met Snape in the corridors this morning. He asked me to give you this.” She shoved an envelope into his hands before storming out of the library with an armful of books, hair swinging behind her, the picture of righteous fury.

 _Nice job Draco, really, a stellar performance. At this rate you’ll be on the front page headlining as the next savior of the wizarding world,_ he thought to himself viciously. Growling, he tore open the envelope to read whatever it was that Snape couldn’t say to him directly.

 

Come to my office after dinner, 6:00

S. Snape

 

 _He must be kidding! What was even the point of writing this down!? Was it so hard to just find me and tell me directly!?_ Muttering insults under his breath, Draco shoved through the library door and set a fast pace to the common room. He had class in ten minutes and still had to pick up his books.

 

* * *

 

“You don’t understand Harry! He was just so rude!” Hermione huffed. They were ten minutes into advanced charms and Harry was trying to concentrate, but Hermione hadn’t stopped venting about a certain ferret since she got there.

“I understand you perfectly Hermione. I don’t know why you’re so surprised by that. He’s _Draco Malfoy._ ” Harry scribbled down some more notes on wand motions before turning back to look her in the eyes. “I don’t know why you’d expect him any different this year than last. Leopards don’t c-

“Change their spots, Harry I know. What I’m saying is, he was nearly civil with me before, but now he’s back to his vicious comments.” Harry snorted.

“Nearly civil my foot,” he said under his breath, focussing once more on his notes. “Hermione, can we save this conversation for another time? We’re in charms. I’m trying to focus on what Flitwick is saying.” Hermione’s eyes widened.

“Crikey, you’re right Harry. We can talk later,” she said, downright shocked that she hadn’t even thought about the lesson since she got here. Harry groaned quietly, probably trying not to think about what ‘talking later’ would entail.

When charms had ended, Hermione started theorizing out loud again, for Harry’s listening pleasure.

“What would cause such a drastic change in mood? I can’t believe that his attitude yesterday was the exception.”

“I don’t know Hermione. There probably isn’t any reason. Malfoy is just like that,” Harry said wearily.

“I heard him sneezing before I talked to him. Maybe that’s why he was irritated,” she said thoughtfully.

“Hermione, I really doubt a sneeze would affect someone’s mood all that much.”

“Yeah, but he kept having entire sneezing fits.” She started gesticulating. “You know like when you crack open a book that looks like it’s never seen the light of day and dust gets everywhere… he did say he was studying.” Harry started chuckling at that.

“I really don’t know what you’re talking about Hermione, but I’ve got to go to my next class now. Talk at lunch?” he suggested.

“Of course Harry. See you at lunch,” she said and they parted with a hug.

Hermione had another free period before lunch so she made a beeline to the library to do some personal research for the next hour or so.

Lunch was just as awkward as breakfast. Ron made a couple stilted attempts to start a conversation with Hermione, but after she ignored him for the fourth time, he gave up and slumped in his seat, dragging a fork through some heavily-salted peas. She made pleasant conversation with Harry about his defense studies, and Harry attempted to make some conversation with Ron, who shot him a grateful look but remained mostly silent.

Hermione looked down at her partially eaten fried fish and realized she couldn’t stomach another bite. She shoved it over onto the side of her plate and reached for the steamed asparagus. A single bite of the green vegetable settled her stomach and she dug in with renewed gusto, pausing only to add some broccoli and carrots to the mix.

“So Hermione, any other theories about Malfoy’s change in behavior?” Harry asked indulgently, but sincerely. Hermione shot a quick glance at Ron before answering him.

“Well… you may be right that it was just a passing mood. I went to the library and did a little reading on sudden personality changes, and I didn’t really find anything.” Ron chuckled softly at that. Hermione must have heard because she shot him a glare. “Something you want to say?” she snapped. His face dropped as he quickly sobered. Looking up he locked eyes with her.

“It’s just hard to imagine you not finding anything, Hermione. You’re fucking brilliant. Every year we’ve been here, trying to live through some disaster, you and your research, well, it saved our bloody lives. Every time.” He returned his gaze to his peas, and Hermione softened. She and Harry met each others’ eyes for a second.

“I have to go,” Ron said softly, getting up and walking towards the door. Hermione looked at Harry pleadingly.

“What am I supposed to do?” she implored.

“I dunno. Apologize?” he ventured.

“Apologize! He has far more to apologize for than I do!” Hermione hissed at him. Harry threw up his arms in surrender.

“It was just a suggestion!” He got up to leave as well. Pausing, he let out a sigh and turned back to Hermione noting the indecision in her eyes. “I’ll talk to him.”

“Thank you,” she breathed out, relieved.

“Yeah, yeah, just don’t get mad at me for whatever he does next,” Harry said as he walked past her to follow after Ron.

 

* * *

 

Over at the Slytherin table, the conversation was proving to be dull as grass. At least, from Draco’s perspective. He piled steamed veggies on his plate and started working his way through them filtering out Pansy's chatter.

Today had had a rough start. He had been late to Arithmancy, Defense had been more of a struggle than usual with his head somewhere else the whole time, and that on top of everything that happened in the library he was starting to feel a stress headache coming on.

Biting down particularly viciously on a stalk of asparagus, he tried to take his mind off the day’s frustrations and instead mused about what Snape wanted from him. _He probably wants to know why the veritaserum essay is taking so long,_ he thought, with an internal eye roll. Before he could come up with any other plausible ideas, his thoughts were interrupted by Blaise.

“Man, how can you eat that many vegetables in one sitting?” he said peering at Draco’s plate from across the table, looking rather offended as Draco moved on to the carrots and string beans. “I can’t stand asparagus,” he muttered.

“I’ll have you know, my meal choices are perfectly proper,” Draco replied. “You, on the other hand, have decided on…” He squinted at the white block on Blaise’s fork. “I… What is that?”

“Tofu,” he said with a smirk.

“Oh sure, steamed vegetables are gross, but tofu, no, that’s just fine,” he exclaimed, rolling his eyes.

“What can I say? It goes well with ribeye steak. Now if only I had a nice, full red wine to go with it,” he lamented. “That would’ve made this meal perfect.” Blaise let out a tortured sigh as he stabbed another bit of tofu onto his fork.

* * *

 

 Harry found Ron in the dormitory. He was sat in an armchair staring listlessly into the unlit fireplace, seemingly deep in thought. Harry settled into one of the other chairs and waited for him to say something.

After at least ten minutes of silence, Ron spoke up.

“Harry, I think I really messed up.” He was positively miserable.

“Ron, this is the last time I’m going to say this. You need to go and apologize. Go and say sorry. Don’t make excuses and don’t expect her to forgive you immediately,” he advised.

“I… okay. You’re right of course. It’s just taken a bit to admit to myself that I may have been wrong.”

“Hermione cares about you. She may not be interested in dating you anymore, but I’m sure she’d be happy to reconcile with you,” Harry encouraged. He got up and clasped Ron’s shoulder. “You’ve got this mate. I’ll see you in Transfiguration,” he said before leaving Ron to his thoughts.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tada! It's Monday and the chapter is complete!

Ron didn’t have any classes with Hermione that evening, so he spent most of his class time brainstorming the best way to apologize. He knew that flowers and chocolates would probably only get him a kick in the stomach, but he felt that it was best if he got her something as a way of saying sorry. Of course, he would still have to actually apologize with words, but no reason he couldn’t ease the way with something more material.

After the war, Ron had received plenty of letters and donations, he was a war hero after all. For weeks on end, he would get letters of gratitude, or from newspapers who wanted an interview. Despite how many people wrote him, it was positively nothing compared to how many letters Harry had received. He was still getting upwards of twenty letters a day from grateful witches and wizards.

Anyway, Ron was very far from being poor. He could certainly afford to get Hermione an apology gift.

“Mr. Weasley, what do you think?”

Ron snapped to attention to see McGonagall giving him a stern look, clearly waiting for an answer. He snapped his eyes to the board. What had she said last?

“Um, it takes about 17 months for wood to metal transfigurations to wear off?” he hazarded. McGonagall pursed her lips.

“It takes 19 months, Mr. Weasley. You were close,” she told him before returning to the lesson. Ron exhaled. _She will never stop being scary._ He shared a look with Harry from across the room who gave him a look of sympathy before returning to his notes.

After class, he went over to Harry, who was packing up his parchment and books into his shoulder bag.

“Hey Harry, what kind of gifts does Hermione like?”

“Ron, if you don’t know what she likes after dating her for nearly a year I don’t think I can help you,” Harry said, slinging his bag over his shoulder. Ron kept stride with him as he left the classroom.

“Yes well, I know what she likes from a boyfriend, but what should I get her as a friend? Surely you would know better than me,” Ron insisted.

“Is this about your apology?” Harry asked. “I don’t know if it’s a good idea to get her anything.”

“Sure it is. I just have to make sure she doesn’t the wrong idea,” Ron sped up to keep pace with him. “Where are you headed in such a hurry anyway?”

“The common room. Ginny and I are studying together,” Harry said with a smile.

“Oh right, ‘studying,’” teased Ron.

“How about you sod off Ron,” said Harry, elbowing him in the ribs. “I can’t help with Hermione, and I’ve got to go,” he said as Ron slowed down and fell behind until Harry had turned a corner and was out of sight.

Ron stood in the corridor by himself for a moment, before letting out a groan and turning to go to the Great Hall. He had a whole hour before dinner and he needed to take his mind off his problems for a bit. Maybe he could find someone to play wizard chess with him. He’d get something for Hermione after dinner when he went to pick up his repaired wand.

When he arrived, he scanned the Hall for his first victim, but it was practically empty aside from a few younger students, who looked at him with wide eyes as he passed.

“This is pointless,” he grumbled to himself, making an about face and heading to the common room instead. Maybe he could squeeze in a quick nap.

He had nearly made it there when he ran into the ferret. Malfoy hadn’t seen him yet, distracted by Parkinson, who was trying to hang off his arm, but he kept pushing her off of him. When they got a bit closer he could hear some of what they were saying.

“Merlin Pansy, for the last time, I’m not interested!” Draco growled at her.

“But Draco! You’re never interested!” Pansy whined.

“Yes! Exactly! So leave me alone! I don’t get why you stick around. I certainly make enough jokes at your expense,” he said, shoving her off of him again.

“It’s just, well, you’re the safest one to be allied with right now. The war has done a number on the pureblood ranks. Everyone is afraid that their secrets will come to light because they all have dirt on each other. People trust the Malfoy’s to keep their word,” she said quiet enough that Ron could barely hear her.

“That’s what this is about? You don’t have to shag me to be an ally, Pansy. What kind of nonsense have your parents taught you?” Draco muttered back just as softly. “Listen, lets maybe save the heart-to-hearts for the common room,” he said catching sight of Ron.

“Weasley,” he said with a nod, as they passed Ron. Ron only tried to rein in his anger. Hermione would not be happy with him if he punched in Malfoy’s nose.

“Malfoy,” he said through gritted teeth, but he managed to let them pass without comment.

Only once they were around the corner did he relax and continue on his way to the dormitories.

 

Dinner was less tense than lunch, but the whole mood had changed. Hermione had her nose buried in a book while she ate some lentils and what looked to be some kind of bird.

“Hermione, what _is_ that?” asked Harry. “It looks like a small chicken.”

“Oh uh,” she glanced from her book down to her plate. “I think it’s a pheasant?”

“Where did you get a pheasant from?” asked Ron. Hermione stiffened.

“I think she got it from the other end of the table. Did you really walk all the way down there just to eat a game bird?” Harry inquired turning to her with a raised eyebrow.

“Don’t be silly Harry. Why would I do that? I simple levitated the plate over,” Hermione said with a self-satisfied grin, before returning to her book. Ron tilted his head to read the title of her latest read. The cover proudly pronounced, _Advanced Magical Knitting Techniques for the Classical Witch Vol. 4._

“Are you planning on knitting something?” he asked absentmindedly. Hermione glared at him but gave a flat reply.

“Not at the moment, but one never knows when information will become useful.”

 _Well,_ Ron thought to himself, _at least she’s not ignoring me anymore._

“Oh yeah, that’s true,” he agreed. He really didn’t know how complicated knitting patterns would help in the future, but he was happy to agree with whatever Hermione said. Hermione, however, narrowed her eyes at his response, as though she could tell he didn’t mean it.

 

* * *

 

Draco was late for dinner. He’d escaped Pansy earlier to go do some more research for potions and lost track of time in all the dust of the library. He had made some headway and had about 6 inches of his essay written. But now he only had about twenty minutes to eat before leaving to see Snape. And his stress headache had arrived.

He dropped down at the table next to Pansy and filled his plate quickly. He started eating swiftly, mind still on his essay. But Blaise quick as always to intrude on his thoughts.

“Draco, don’t you think Pansy looks nice tonight?” he said. Pansy shot him a warning look.

“I dunno,” Draco muttered distractedly.

“Drake, let me try a bite of your quail,” simpered Pansy.

“There’s a whole plate of it just over there. Why don’t you help yourself,” he replied.

“Wow Draco. Way to treat a lady,” drawled Blaise. “Won’t even share your quail with her. Tsk, tsk.”

“Whatever, Blaise,” said Draco uncaringly, adding some broccoli to his plate.

“I’ll never get over the things you eat, Draco. Quail, really?” he goaded.

“Shove off. Besides, I’ll have you know, it’s pheasant, not quail,” Draco said before shoving a huge hunk of meat in his mouth, trying to ignore his throbbing head.

“Yes, and I suppose that makes a huge difference,” said Blaise.

“Why are you so obsessed with my food choices? Got a crush?” he shot back with a confident smirk.

“Ew no. You’re hot, but you’re like my brother,” said Blaise. Draco raised his eyebrows at him. There was a bit of silence. Pansy looked between the two.

“Oookaaayyy. I think that was my cue to leave,” he finally said, finishing off the last of the pheasant and standing up. Suddenly he got an unusual craving. “Snag a slice of chocolate cheesecake for me would you?” he asked Blaise, whose eyebrows shot up

“Seriously? I’ve never seen you eat cheesecake. In fact, I don’t even know if they serve it here,” Blaise said thoughtfully. Draco tapped his foot impatiently, waiting for his answer. “Yeah mate, I’ll see what I can do,” he conceded.

“Thanks. See you later. Pansy,” he parted from them with a nod and strolled out of the hall.

He still had about 10 minutes before he had to meet Snape so he took his time on the way down to the dungeons. _I bet he just wants to lecture me about the importance of proper research when brewing or something._ Draco rubbed his temples in an attempt to ease his headache.

“Head hurt?” asked one of the portraits hanging in the corridor. Draco glanced over at the painting. It was of what could reasonably be assumed to be a person, but it was in a Picasso-reminiscent cubism style. The painted man had three ears, what looked like a mouth and a half, and an eye in his one visible nostril. Draco snorted.

“Not as much as yours I bet,” he said mirthfully, before continuing down the corridor, still rubbing head.

He gave a firm knock on Snape’s office door upon arrival, and entered at the gruff “enter.” Snape was sitting behind his desk grading a pile of essays with red ink.

“Have a seat,” he shot at Draco, not looking away from where he was writing ‘Absolutely Abysmal’ next to a large zero at the top of an essay. Draco sat. Snape finished his comments and set the essay at the top of a pile of similarly marked papers next to him.

“Draco. How’s your veritaserum paper going?” he asked.

 _I knew it,_ thought Draco. _It’s_ _all about the damn essay._

“It’s going fine. I’ll have it to you by Thursday as you asked,” replied Draco a bit testily. “You know, it’s not necessary to pass messages to me through Granger,” he said. “I have perfectly good ears of my own.” Snape looked at him sharply.

“Not, that it’s your business, I was out of the school all morning, and Ms. Granger informed me that she would see you today. I’m a busy man, I don’t have time to track you across the entire school,” he said snidely.

“Well, if that’s all,” said Draco getting up to leave, but he didn’t get very far before Snape spoke up.

“Sit down.” He growled. Draco looked at him and sat back down warily.

“Is there something else?” he queried. Snape sighed.

“I’ve caught wind of a rumor,” he conceded. “It’s incredibly dangerous to cast with a broken wand. I need to check that you are not under some warped curse from Mr. Weasley. He’s an incompetent fool whose can hardly cast a spell to save his life, but damaged wands are unpredictable. There is a long documented history of wizards fooling around with wands that are broken and accidentally spelling each other with long-term, irreversible, curses.” Snape stood up. “Now if you don’t mind, I need you to stand still while I do a few diagnostic spells.”

Draco, who was sufficiently horrified by the fact he could be cursed and not know, promptly stood up and submitted himself to Snape’s spellcasting.

After several minutes of Snape alternately casting, and interrogating Draco with weirdly specific questions such as, “What is your shoe size?” or “What is the first thing that comes to mind when you think of the color red,” he finally stepped back and dropped his hand.

“Well?” asked Draco. “What did you find?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?” Draco said, disbelieving.

“Nothing of note. There is a small amount of residue from Mr. Weasley’s _very_ poor spellcasting. Its placement is a little unusual, but it’s harmless,” Snape said as he walked back behind his desk.

“Residue? Can you remove it?” Draco asked worriedly.

“No. It will fade on its own. It’s rather close to your soul, so it’ll fade fast. I would expect it to be gone within twenty-four hours,” he explained. “And, since you are clean of curses, there is no need to check Ms. Granger. You are dismissed, Draco.” Draco got up and turned to the door. Snape turned back to his grading but looked up to make a last remark as Draco reached the door. “On the off chance that you do start feeling anything out of the norm, come to inform me.”

“I will,” Draco said before he stepped out closing the door behind him.

Draco muttered curses as he walked down the dungeon corridor. _Sod Weasel for getting his gross weasel spell residue on me._ He silently vowed to never have his guard down around Weasley, but then he remembered that he already did that.

His head gave another angry pulse and Draco was about ready to start slamming it against a wall if it would do any good. Instead, he went to the hospital wing to see if Madam Pomfrey liked him enough to give him a headache potion.

As it turned out, Madam Pomfrey liked him enough to give him multiple headache potions which he carefully tucked into his bag. She was incredibly adamant that he only drank them right before laying down for the night. Apparently, it was only effective when administered to someone who was in a horizontal state and would stop working if stood up before an hour had passed

Draco wasn’t eager to argue with her, so he was just going to have to suffer for another couple of hours while he worked on homework in the common room. On his way back, he let his mind wander and wondered if Blaise had managed to get him cheesecake.

Once it was on his mind, it was all he could think about. Merlin, he wanted that cheesecake. He could imagine exactly the way it would taste just by closing his eyes. Luscious and heavy with the creamy chocolate. His mouth started watering just thinking about it. He was going to throttle Blaise if he had forgotten.

He was ripped from his musings when he saw Granger walking some distance in front of him. There wasn’t really any way to avoid her to he just braced himself for another stilted conversation.

Sure enough, soon as she caught sight of him she adopted a scowl and stalked over to him. Draco didn’t stop walking, but she just kept pace with him.

“Granger, the absolute last person I wanted to see,” he sniped at her.

“I wasn’t exactly thrilled to you either Malfoy. What are you even up to at this hour?” Hermione crossed her arms. “Actually, you know what, I don’t care. Besides I have places to be.”

“Right, of course you do. What place would that be exactly? The library? I hate to break to you, but I don’t think you’re needed there,” said Draco with a sneer.

“Actually I was on my way to the kitchens, not that you really care,” she bit out, “I need some sugar, I have been having the worst headache of my life.”

“Sugar is not going to fix a headache. You’d be better off going to the hospital wing,” said Draco. “Pomfrey has potions for that kind of thing, Granger. You have a head, try using it.” He crossed his arms, mirroring her.

“I would! If it didn’t feel like it was splitting in two!” she snapped at him in frustration. She sighed. “Thanks for the advice, but I’m just going to get the cheesecake that I’ve been craving since dinner.” She made to leave. Draco blinked

“Try not to bite anyone else’s head off on your way!” he shouted after her. She didn’t even glance back.

 

Once Draco was back to the common room, the craving had mostly subsided, but he still wanted dessert. It took a bit of maneuvering to elude Pansy but he eventually found Blaise in the dorms lounging on a bed, flipping through some trashy tabloid.

“Did you know that Magdelene is pregnant?” he said by way of greeting.

“Who in Merlin’s name is Magdelene?” asked Draco exasperated. Blaise let out a horrified gasp.

“You don’t know who _Magdelene_ is?” he stage-whispered. “She’s only the first ever Witch actress to grace the muggle film industry.”

“I don’t know why you thought I would know that,” he sighed. “Do you have my cheesecake?”

“Yeah mate, it’s over on the dresser. Help yourself.”

Draco looked over at the dresser, squinting. _What the-_ He moved closer. _Yep, that is an entire chocolate cheesecake._

“Mate, I asked for a slice, not a whole bloody cake,” he groaned. Blaise shrugged from his position on the bed.

“Well, you have one now. So. Have fun with that.”

“You know what’s weird?” Draco began as he cut himself a slice. “I ran into Granger.”

“That’s not weird.”

“Well, no. The weird part is that it turns out she was also going to get cheesecake,” he finished, conjuring a plate and fork.

“I dunno mate. Cheesecake is pretty great. It’s weirder that she told you that really,” said Blaise, turning a page. Draco hummed in response as he took a bite of his long-awaited slice.

“Bloody hell, that is the best thing I have ever tasted,” he moaned. Blaise snorted.

“What, have you never had cheesecake or something?”

“I had some when I was six and it made me so nauseous I nearly vomited on the Persian rug,” Draco said. “Want to know what Snape wanted?”

“Do I ever,” said Blaise, closing the tabloid and tossing it down.

“He wanted to make sure Weasley hadn’t cursed me. He said that broken wands are unpredictable.”

“So? Did he find anything?” prompted Blaise.

“Just some of Weasley’s residue,” Draco said, making a face.

“Ew ew ew. Never say that again,” Blaise complained, scrunching up his nose in disgust .“That sounds so wrong not to mention it brings images that I do _not_ want in my head.”

“Gross Blaise. This is why I don’t tell you stuff.” Draco banished his empty plate and fork. “Thanks for the cheesecake. I’ll see you later.” He moved to go back to the common room. He had some homework that he wanted to finish before tomorrow.

“Bye Draco,” Blaise returned, already reaching for his tabloid again.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a little late, and it's a little short, but it's here, so I'm counting this as a success.

Hermione just had to run into Draco when all she wanted was some cheesecake. Her head was not letting up in the slightest with its pounding ache, and she just wanted something to be comforted by. Namely cheesecake. She still had some reading to do tonight, so she needed to be quick.

She reached the painting of fruit and stepped inside after tickling the pear. She would sate her craving and head back to the common room, she thought to herself as house elves rushed to greet her and offer her various pastries.

She turned to the one closest to her, Mipsy was her name she thought and leaned down to look her in the eyes.

“Hi Mipsy, Do you all have any chocolate cheesecake left tonight?” she asked gently.

“Miss Granger, Mipsy begs your forgiveness. We had a whole cake but it was all eaten at dinner,” said the house elf, with wide nervous eyes. Hermione gave a silent groan. It was looking like she might not get her sugar fix after all.

“Miss Granger.” There was a tug on her robes. “There is some strawberry cheesecake if you would like it,” said Mipsy as two other elves ushered in the grand dessert, which was absolutely covered in fresh strawberries and small chips of chocolate. Hermione let out a relieved sigh.

“Yes, that will do great,” she returned to Mipsy with a reassuring smile. “Thank you.”

 

After a large slice of the most amazing cheesecake Hermione had ever eaten, she said goodbye to the kitchen elves and went back the common room, where she was now flipping through a ridiculously large book by the fireplace. She was trying to take her mind off her headache, but so far it wasn’t working in the slightest. Even when the author started talking about how the subject, which in this case was mermish language, could be interpreted philosophically, Hermione could not make herself focus on the material.

She looked up from her reading when Harry came over to one of the armchairs and sat down as well.

“Have you been feeling all right lately, Hermione?” he asked, turning to look at her. “You seem off today.”

“I’m fine Harry. Really. Aside from this massive headache of course.”

“Headache? Have you seen Madam Pomfrey?”

“No, there’s no reason to bother her,” said Hermione as her head gave a particularly painful throb. She gave a sigh and rubbed her temples.

“You never get headaches. I really think you should go to the hospital wing just to make sure everything is okay,” urged Harry as a crease appeared between his eyebrows.

“Alright Harry,” she conceded. “I’ll go if I’m still in pain tomorrow.” The relief on his face was incredibly apparent. He looked so old and tired at that moment. Much older than eighteen. It likely came from the years and years of stress from the constant battle with not only Riddle, but also the media, and sometimes even his peers.

Hermione wondered if she looked similar.

“I’m going to turn in for the night,” she said as she closed her book and stood. “Goodnight Harry.” She gave him a smile which he readily returned.

“Goodnight Hermione.”

 

Breakfast was great. Hermione had slept amazing. Her headache had gone away rather suddenly around ten o’clock and she was able to finally relax. Now she was carefully piling bacon on a piece of toast, completing it with a poached egg, before bringing it carefully to her mouth and taking a bite.

Ron was hardly eating anything and he seemed rather nervous by the way he kept fidgeting with something in his hands.

“Your headache is gone then?” queried Harry as he buttered some toast.

“Yes, thank God,” she replied. “It vanished completely just after I went to bed.”

“Huh. Well, in any case, it’s good that it was nothing serious.” Harry bit into his toast. “I’m glad you’re feeling better,” he said between his chewing.

Just as he finished speaking, Hermione let out a hiss of pain.

“What? It’s back?” Harry asked, concerned.

“No. No, I think I bit my tongue,” she replied with furrowed eyebrows.

“You think?”

“Mmm, yeah. I think so.” She took another tentative bite. She hadn’t felt her teeth even touch her tongue, but what else could the now slowly receding pain have been from?

“That sucks,” said Harry. “I’d love to stick around, but I need to get a head start today.”

“Alright Harry. See you in class,” Hermione said, as he took his leave. She went back to her food, paying no mind to Ron, who now seemed to be breaking out in a cold sweat. He looked down at his hands and took a deep breath.

Bracing himself, he finally spoke up, just as Hermione finished eating.

“Hermione. I’d like to apologize to you.” Hermione blinked at him. He paused as though looking for the right words. “I’m sorry for treating you so poorly when we dating. I never meant to let you feel like you were my caretaker, but I did. So I’m sorry. I’m also sorry for attacking Malfoy with a cracked wand when he was talking to you. I know it was a dumb move, but I had gotten so caught up in myself that I couldn’t see that. I really did think you would be grateful.

“I think I had gotten this idea in my head of what a girlfriend was supposed to be, and I was subconsciously impressing that on you. It’s no wonder you broke up with me. I think we may truly work better as friends and I hope we can return to that. I’ve really hated not talking to you.” He brought up a thick scarf, colored red and gold. It looked soft. “I got you this to apologize.”

Hermione raised her eyebrows, pleasantly surprised. She didn’t know Ron had it in him to apologize so eloquently. She carefully accepted the scarf from his outstretched hands. Bringing it close to her chest, she looked him in the eyes.

“I forgive you, Ron. How could I not after a speech like that?” she said with a good-humored smile. Ron lit up with a smile of his own.

“Really?”

“Of course,” she assured him. “We have History together. Want to get going?”

“Sounds good, Hermione,” Ron said, getting up from the table with a broad smile.

 

* * *

 

“Ugh, I think Granger and Weasley just got back together,” complained Pansy. “Just look at them! Sappy smiles and everything!” Draco paused to look, fork hanging in the air with bits of poached egg, to look over his shoulder. Sure enough, Hermione was clutching a brand-new, Gryffindor colored scarf, ridiculous grin plastered on her face.

“How can someone look that happy when they’re dating a Weasley?” he sniped, finishing off his egg.

“She must be simple in the head,” sniggered Pansy, provoking a chuckle from Blaise as well. Draco glared at her.

“She is far from simple,” he snapped at her.

“Woah boy,” said Blaise, bemused. “It’s just a joke. What’s got your wand in a twist?”

“Nevermind,” muttered Draco, glaring at his plate now. “Pansy’s right. Only a fool would like being with Weasley.”

“I wonder what their sex life is like?” mused Pansy out of the blue. Blaise slammed down his silverware.

“For fuck’s sake Pansy! I don’t want to be thinking about Weasley having sex while eating breakfast!” he shouted, drawing a couple of stares from the people sitting near them.

“Oh but Granger’s fine though?” she teased.

“Granger is totally fine. Totally fine body too. Shame she’s a mudblood.”

Draco’s chair screeched across the floor as he stood abruptly.

“I’m going to class,” he growled over his shoulder as he left them.

“I hope your tongue feels better,” Blaise shouted after him, but he got no reply.

 

Draco finally calmed down once potions had started. There was something almost meditative about brewing. Snape was as stern as always, but he hardly stopped by Draco’s cauldron, probably too confident in his godson’s skills to need to check that he was following the instructions correctly.

He stirred his potion, feet-shrinking potion, six times counterclockwise, before finishing with two turns in the opposite direction. It glowed just the right shade of orange and he gave a satisfied nod.

Draco carefully prepared a flask of it and set it down on Snape’s desk.

“Very well done, Mr. Malfoy. As you have completed the potion early, but more importantly, correctly, you may be excused. It would be wise to use this time to work on your essay,” Snape said as we walked behind his desk and inspected the flask.

“Yes, sir,” he replied with a nod. He grabbed his bag and was out the door in a flash.

He really only had fifteen extra minutes, but extra time was extra time, and he intended to use every second. Draco set course for the library. He had his partially finished essay in his bag and his next period was free, so it was the perfect time to try and finish up his assignment.

On his way to the library, Granger and the weasel came out of a classroom a ways down the corridor. They were laughing. She said something and he laughed harder. Weasley patted her on the shoulder and left around the corner, but Hermione turned to walk the other way, only to stop short at seeing him.

“Granger,” he greeted upon reaching her. “Congrats.”

She looked at him funny. “Congrats? What are you talking about?”

“Congrats on Weasley.” Draco adjusted his bag. She only looked more confused, eyes searching his for an answer. Then her eyebrows shot up when she understood.

“You mean you think we’re together again?” She laughed a little.

“Of course you are,” Draco said, confidently crossing his arms.

“No, we really aren’t. We both agreed that we’re much better as friends,” she said, waving a  hand in front of her. “People always tried to push us together, but the relationship we had was a complete failure. It wasn’t meant to be.” Draco was surprised at that. He had always assumed that Weasley and Granger had a perfect relationship to fit their perfect war hero personas but Weasley couldn’t even make her happy.

 _Pathetic. Even I could make her happy._ But then again, he was an ex-death eater and she probably wouldn’t want to be associated with that.

“Look Malfoy, I’ve got to go. I have some research to do,” Hermione said, mildly apologetic. Draco raised his eyebrows.

“As do I,” he said. Hermione raised her eyebrows.

“On what?” she asked, curious.

“Veritaserum. Snape has given me an independent project.” Draco continued walking to the library, and Hermione moved with him.

“Oh, I’ve done tons of reading about truth potions. Veritaserum is a particularly finicky one. I’d recommend reading Grouwith’s writings on it if you plan on brewing it. Her explanations are the clearest I’ve ever read,” she advised. Draco nodded, taking a mental note of the name.

“Maybe I’ll do that,” he murmured.

When they arrived Hermione disappeared behind some bookshelves before he could get a word out. Draco mentally shrugged and went to find the text she recommended.

He found it after a few minutes of scanning the potions section and moved to a nearby table to get started.

Ten minutes later, Draco was having more success than he’d been having all week. Granger knew what she was talking about. The explanations were to the point and easy to follow. There were also charts on several pages detailing every possible brewing variance and the effects of each one.

A few minutes later, Draco lifted up his head for a second, reveling in how much information was in the text. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Hermione nose-deep in a book of her own, sitting several tables away.

He considered asking her if she had any other suggestions, but he didn’t really want to ask help from Granger of all people. Besides, he didn’t even need help. This book probably had enough pertinent information that he could write the whole paper without consulting any other books at all.

Draco pulled out some parchment and ink to take notes and, with one last glance at Hermione, returned to studying a page that was chock full of charts and diagrams.

A few minutes later, he was pulled from his notes by the sound of someone approaching. Incredibly surprised to see Hermione moving towards him, Draco froze, quill poised in the middle of a sentence about the effects of a brewer’s emotions.

She dropped down in the chair across from him with a huff, book in hand.

“Are you any good at reading, convoluted, run-on, techno-babble, phrases? I’ve read the same paragraph ten times and I still can’t tell what it says,” she asked him without ceremony.

“Have you forgotten who I am?” Draco extended a hand and beckoned that she should hand him the book.

“It’s the second paragraph on this page.” She handed it over and pointed at the offending passage.

Draco read it over once. Then again.

“Wow,” he muttered. He read it again, slower. “This is terrible writing.”

“I know,” Hermione said, matter-of-factly.

“From what I can tell,” he started slowly, glaring at the page, “the author means to say that the reader shouldn’t trust these results over others, but rather get facts from alternate sources as well.”

“He could have just said that,” Hermione said good-naturedly.

“Well that’s what you get for reading a book written in,” he paused flipping to the front page, “1534, why are you reading a book this old? I doubt you will find much useful information in here.” Draco passed the book back to her.

“It’s for a history project,” she said.

“Ah, well that explains it. I don’t suppose you could have picked an easier read, Granger? Or do you insist on showing off?” There was a teasing glint in his eyes.

“I’m not _showing off_. I asked you for help, didn’t I? Besides, I like a challenge,” Hermione said, one side of her mouth curling up ever so slightly as she returned her focus to the text. Draco watched her eyes move across the page resisted an unanticipated urge to smirk.

 _Me too,_ he thought to himself before he returned to his notes somewhat reluctantly.

They stayed like that for a long time, with the only sounds being the scratching of Draco’s quill or the turning of a page. It was strangely peaceful. Draco rarely studied with others, and he was enjoying the comfortable silence that had settled between them. Granger is not so bad when she’s not talking. He smirked to himself.

_She’s not so bad when she’s talking either._

A hiss of pain drew his attention to Hermione who was glaring her finger, which was now adorned with a bleeding paper-cut. Draco’s own finger gave a sting of sympathy.

“Ouch.” He conjured a small band-aid. “Here,” he said passing it to her. She shot him a grateful glance.

“Thanks.”

Draco was a little taken aback at her gratitude. He stood up, and carefully put away his notes as she wrapped the band-aid around her finger. Draco’s finger gave another sting as she did so. He closed his book, and with a sudden thought, he awkwardly offered his own thanks.

“It’s nothing. Consider it repayment for the recommendation,” he said. _Good enough._ Hermione looked up at him.

“Glad I could help.”

“Happy studying,” he threw over his shoulder as he went to check out. _She has no idea how much work she saved me. The essay will a breeze._


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's late! but it's here now, and extra long to make up for it.

It wasn’t until the next morning that Draco learned that he and Hermione had been seen studying together and were now the talk of the school. He had just sat down at the Slytherin table and was carefully cutting into some over medium eggs when Blaise brought it up to him.

“The great Draco Malfoy is making friends with Gryffindors now?” he said with a smirk. Draco stared at him, nonplussed. 

“If you’re referring to Granger, we’re hardly friends. In fact, I would be very much surprised if she didn’t rather dislike me.” He took a bite his eggs, considered, and then added some pepper.

“But you don’t dislike her?” Blaise pressed, practically staring him down.

“I don’t know what you’re going on about Blaise,” he muttered. “I happened to study at the same table as her, so what?” 

“So you didn’t talk to her? The whole school thinks you two are best buddies.”

“Ah yes. That seems like it would make a good rumor indeed. A Slytherin and a Gryffindor have a civil conversation so they must be the best of friends and also the world is ending,” Draco chuckled. “She recommended a book to me, and I interpreted a passage for her. That was it,” he said seriously, meeting Blaise’s piercing stare dead on.

Blaise made a noncommittal sound, watched as Pansy walked into the hall and sat down directly next to him, before leaning over the table to interrogate Darco herself.

“What are you doing hanging out with that mudblood?” she hissed at him. Draco shot her a dark look at the slur.

“Merlin! I’m in the same room as Granger for an hour! An hour without killing her! And suddenly I’m accused by my closest allies of betraying our house and honor!” Draco was trying to keep his voice down, but he knew it was carrying more than he would have preferred. “Do neither of you have any idea how to be political!” Blaise and Pansy both looked somewhat taken aback at that.

“So you meant it’s all only politics?” Blaise asked carefully. 

“Oh, I get it,” Pansy smirked. “You’re using her to redeem yourself to the light side,” she stated, utterly confident in her deduction. Draco just sighed. 

“Yes, whatever,” he dismissed. “Things must be getting really dull around here if the biggest news is that a couple people from different houses studied next to each other.” Draco returned his attention back to his eggs. 

The two sitting across from seemed satisfied and perhaps a little sheepish for attacking him, and both returned to eating. Draco welcomed the moment of silence but it didn’t last long. Blaise was looking past Draco’s shoulder, and he turned around to see Hermione getting up from her seat to walk to the door. Her gaze met his for a second, but she didn’t acknowledge him aside from the slightest widening of her eyes. His attention was returned to the table by a low whistle.

“You know, if it’s all political, you should totally take the chance to shag her,” Blaise interjected.

“I’m leaving.” 

Draco made his way to potions slowly. He had plenty of time to get there, but he regretted moving slowly when he heard a familiar snotty voice from behind him.

“Malfoy.”

Draco made a show of reluctantly stopping and turning around to face Weasley.

“What,” he prompted when the weasel looked like something was stuck in his throat.

“I heard the rumor.”

“You should know by now not to believe rumors,” Draco drawled. “Unless the rumors about you and your family are true?”

“Leave Hermione alone. Stay away from her. Death eater scum like you doesn’t even deserve to look at her,” Weasley snarled. Draco could feel the beginnings of fury roiling in his gut, but he held his tone steady.

“It’s hardly your job to police who I spend time with, not to mention look at. Besides, you don’t have to worry about me going anywhere near her. I don’t make a habit of having low-class associates.” Draco knew he was escalating the situation, but he didn’t really care. Weasel always seemed to know how to push his buttons and he was angry.

“Stay away from her or I will make you regret it,” Weasley growled, whipping out his wand. Draco was well and truly furious now. The weasel was just asking for a fight, but he knew better to engage, no matter how mad he was. He took a calming breath.

“I’m quaking in my boots,  _ weasel. _ ” In his head, Draco was berating himself fiercely.  _ You sodding idiot! Leave it! Walk away! This will not help you get back into the good graces of the light community!  _

He was so busy yelling at himself that he almost didn’t catch it when Weasley sent a stunner his way. There was no time to reach his wand, so Draco mustered his magic and cast a wandless protego, which rebounded the spell harmlessly against a wall. 

He could not believe Weasley’s idiocy. Red was creeping into the edges of his vision at this point and he counted to ten in his head. He vaguely realized that Weasley was still hurling insults and waving his wand threateningly, but he couldn’t care less. 

When he had finally gotten his breathing to return to normal, he narrowed his eyes and stared down the boy in front of him.

“I do not have time to entertain your idiocy any longer,” he seethed, turning on his heel and striding away. He had only gotten a few paces away when another stunner flew past his head. Whipping around, Draco pinned Weasley a single look of rage. He was still screaming at himself to leave it alone, but he could not resist one last jab.

“Only a coward hexes a wizard when his back is turned. Not that I’m surprised,” he bit out and left before Weasley got the chance to compose a response. 

Potions, naturally, was awful, as it was with the Gryffindors which included the cowardly weasel. Draco was having an incredibly difficult time concentrating in his Mind-Muddling potion. He was completely overwhelmed by the force of his anger and its reluctance to end. It didn’t help that Weasley kept shooting him dirty looks from across the room rather than brewing. Neither of them noticed that Hermione was glaring fiercely into her cauldron for most of the lesson, and crushing her beetles with more force than strictly necessary.

Snape, of course, was quick to notice the tension between the two of them, however. True to form, he addressed the issue through humiliation tactics. He asked Weasley several questions about the potion they were brewing throughout the course of the lesson, which were always met with stuttered out responses that were mostly incorrect. 

Normally Draco would have watched this play out gleefully, but he was still in an undeniably foul mood. He made several minor errors in his brewing but was able to correct for most of them, and by the end of class, he had a halfway decent potion, even if it was nowhere near his usual quality.

As students dropped off their potions and filed out, Snape gave Draco a significant look, and when Draco brought his flask to his desk, he folded his arms.

“Mr. Malfoy, stay after class for a moment.”

Draco narrowed his eyes but conceded and stood back as the last of the students filtered out of the classroom. When it was empty, Snape cut his eyes at Draco.

“You have not told me you were experiencing atypical moods.”

“That’s because I’m not,” he growled back. Snape simply raised an eyebrow as if to say,  _ You cannot seriously expect me to believe that. _ “Alright, I admit that I am in a rather severe temper at the moment. But it’s not unusual to be upset after nearly getting hexed by a blood traitor. While my back was turned for that matter.” Snape sneered at that. 

“Weasley’s idiocy truly knows no bounds. I gather that you are uninjured?”

“Only because his aim is atrocious,” Draco admitted. “I’m afraid that I let my emotions get the better of me.” He looked at his feet. 

“It happens to the best of us. Now stand still while I examine your magic.”

“What? Why?”

“You know why, Draco. I’m a firm believer in taking precautions, and I will make no exception for my godson,” Snape said, leaving no room for argument. He raised his wand, presumably to cast a check that the spell residue was fading, but before he got out a word, the door to the classroom was flung open by a student who was covered in boils and leaning heavily on a slightly taller witch.

“Sir we need help,” she pleaded. Snape let out a frustrated noise and turned to the pair.

“When you have an injury, you go to the hospital wing,” he snarled at them. “I will escort you.” He strode towards the door without so much as a dismissal to Draco.

He was left standing in an empty classroom, still grappling with his anger, it was leaving him slowly, but it was leaving. He grabbed his bag and made his way to the library. He needed to redirect his focus. With any luck, he would be able to channel his anger into something productive. Who knows, he might even finish his Merlin-forsaken potions essay.

The library was near empty as Draco expected it to be. He found a quiet corner and pulled out his draft and the book that Granger had recommended. It was proving to be incredibly helpful, but he still needed to supplement it with some other readings. Leaving his stuff out on the table he went to scan the potions sections for more relevant texts. 

He returned to the table with an armful of books and knew it would take him several hours to get through them all. And his anger had yet to abate. With a sigh, Draco dumped the books onto the table carelessly and the carefully balanced tower toppled over, strewing the texts all over the table. Draco didn’t even try to stop it. Instead, he picked up the one closest to him and sat down, resigning himself to a long study session. 

It was probably best that he isolated himself until his mood improved anyway. If he skipped lunch he would have more time to work on the essay, and longer to get his emotions under control. But he was just so  _ angry.  _ How dare the weasel threaten him. How dare he cast at his unprotected back. How dare he presume to have the authority to tell Draco who to be friends with. Not, of course, that he was friends with Hermione. 

It was all political after all. He was just using her. He hated every moment he spent in her presence and only tolerated her in order to regain his status. The light had won the war and he was unfortunate enough to be on the losing side. He had virtually no political power, and no one of note wanted to risk their reputation by being seen with him. I didn’t matter whether he found her banter fun and playful. It wasn’t about her personality. It was about her power as one of the golden trio. He wasn’t friends with her and didn’t want to be friends with her. They were simply acquaintances. Who helped each other with studying every blue moon. 

_ Yes. Being seen with her is good for my reputation, but it’s nothing more than that,  _ he concluded to himself before scribbling some notes down from his current read. His frustration with Weasley was finally abating, but he decided to remain where he was through lunch anyway. He couldn’t yet be sure that there wouldn’t be any flare-ups.

 

* * *

 

Hermione was having a rough morning. Potions was never fun, but today it had been borderline torturous. Just before class she had become filled with an inexplicable rage that continued to cloud her mind throughout class. She could barely think for how angry she was. Her potion was atrocious and she knew it, but she just couldn’t  _ think.  _ Her frustration at her lack of control only served to anger her further, and it was like this that her potion got steadily worse despite her efforts to fix it. 

When class ended she was forced to turn in her ridiculously bad potion to Snape, and she did so by nearly slamming the flask down on his desk with a huff, shoulders tense, bracing for whatever snide remark he would give. He simply raised an eyebrow, looking at her somewhat suspiciously.

“Distinctly poor work, Ms. Granger. I’m surprised,” he said picking up the flask and putting it the rest, clearly dismissing her. Hermione wasn’t sure if that was an insult or a compliment but her fury grew nonetheless. She was going straight to the dorms for some isolation to try and get emotions under control.

She arrived to see Ron already there, homework strewn over a table, yet blatantly ignoring it to instead begin a game chess with an underclassman. He turned, surprised at her entrance. 

“Hey Hermione, I thought you would be headed to the library. Fancy a game?”

“Not on your life,” she growled under her breath. “Why even bother to have your work out if you’re not going to do it! You’re wasting space,” she snapped at him, brushing past the table to the girls' dorms. Ginny was standing at the entrance, clearly having seen the entire exchange and she was staring at Hermione as she flopped down on her bed with a heartfelt groan. 

“What was that?” Ginny said surprised. “I thought you had forgiven him?”

“I had,” Hermione said through gritted teeth. “But I’m so angry at him and I have no idea why. I thought it was just an ordinary mood swing until I couldn't even brew a simple MInd-Muddling potion without cocking the whole thing up.” She growled and rolled onto her side. “What is the matter with me?” she mumbled.

“Maybe you’re pregnant.” 

That had Hermione chuckling. The chuckle grew into a somewhat hysterical laugh and then it abruptly ended with a hiccup.

“That would certainly be a twist, Ginny, seeing as the only person I’ve had sex with was Krum, four years ago,” she confided, rolling onto her back once more, flopping out her arms. She felt a little calmer now.

“You mean you guys never…” she pressed.

“Nope.” She popped the p as she said it and then sighed. “Surprising I know. You’d expect him to be sex crazy, but I think he actually found me somewhat unappealing. Too many sweaters and battered jeans become some kind of turn off.”

“But Hermione, it hardly matters what you wear! You’re gorgeous! You can’t hide the kind of beauty you have,” Ginny insisted.

“Thank you Ginny, but it’s pretty clear that anything can be hidden from Ron,” she said with a chuckle. “I think I’m going to take a short nap. Would you wake me up for lunch?” 

“Of course, Hermione. I hope your mood gets better,” Ginny agreed as she moved towards the door.

“Me too,” she said to herself, before drawing the curtains around the bed and closing her eyes.

As soon she let herself relax, her mind started racing.  _ Of course. God forbid I get some actual rest,  _ she thought resentfully. Her mind turned to the schoolwork she had yet to do and she started brainstorming books to check out for her next essay. After several minutes of this, she felt the simmering fury in the mad of her mind become somewhat soothed and began to drift off.

She awoke not much later and sat up promptly, opening the curtains to see Ginny standing right outside, hand raised as if she were about to open them herself.

“You’re awake,” she said simply. “It’s time for lunch.” Hermione dragged herself out of the bed and pulled her bag off the floor, following Ginny out the door. 

Lunch was uneventful. Ron seemed fine with ignoring her earlier loss of temper and was chatting cheerfully with Harry about the next Quidditch match. They were both getting quite into it, demonstrating strategies to each other using carrots for the players of one team and green beans for the other.

Hermione was left to her thoughts as she ate a turkey, ham, and swiss sandwich. She had, of course, noticed the rumors about her and Draco, but she didn’t pay them any mind. She was used to everything she did being spun into a rumor by the masses. If she was out late, it meant she was cheating on Ron, whether they were together or not. If she skipped a meal, it meant she was in the hospital wing dying of a deadly magical flu. 

Hermione was just grateful that she didn’t get it as bad as Harry. At least rumors about her stayed out of the paper, for the most part. She swore that every other week, some tabloid was screaming from the rooftops that Harry was the new Dark Lord, or Harry was actually part werewolf, or Harry had a secret wife and Ginny was just a cover. It went on and on. Harry this and Harry that. She was sympathetic to him. It must get exhausting having to constantly field questions about the latest overblown article. 

She finished her sandwich, but she was still hungry. She pulled another off the plate to her left, adding tomato as well, and wrapped it carefully in several napkins before tucking it in her bag and getting up. She had work to do.

“I’ll see you guys later,” she tossed over her shoulder as she left, but she doubted they heard her as Harry was now attempting to build a Quidditch ring out of a straw and a bit of onion, Ron watching him raptly.

As she made her way to the library, she realized that she was still a little angry, but it was just a bit of heat in the back of her mind. The more she focused on it the more it grew, so she quickly turned her thoughts to another direction. Namely the transfiguration essay that McGonagall had assigned for extra credit yesterday.

When she arrived she went right to her favorite corner and was surprised to see that is was already occupied by none other than Draco. Who was now looking at her.  _ Crap _ .

“Granger. Why am I not surprised?” he said dismissively before returning to his book. Hermione wasn’t about to sit somewhere else just because he was here, so after a bit of hesitation she settled down at the table, now sitting across from him. She pulled out her textbooks and noticed that he was staring at her. “I suggest you find somewhere else to study,” he said mildly. Hermione snorted, feeling her anger surge.

“I’m not going to find another table just because you got to my favorite corner first,” she replied flipping her hair over her shoulder and pulling out a quill. 

“I  _ highly  _ suggest you find somewhere else to study,” he hissed. He did not want a repeat of the Weasley incident just yet.

“What is your problem! I’m not moving just because you want me to.” Her anger was rising to meet his now.

“My problem is that your possessive ex thinks it's okay to hex people while their back is turned,” Draco snarled.

“I don’t see what Ron being an insufferable jerk has to do with your insistence that I leave,” she seethed back. “Tired of hanging out with a mudblood?”

“I thought you were smart, Granger. Your weasel confronted me in the middle of the hall because he couldn’t stand the thought of you and I having a civil conversation. I’d prefer to avoid another instance of it,” he sneered, standing. 

“He’s such an ass! You are not allowed to kick me out of my favorite spot because he told you to!” She was also on her feet also now. “See if I forgive this, Ron,” she added under her breath. 

“The coward clearly has no honor, not to mention courage, casting at my back!”

“Clearly, as if that wasn’t obvious by the way he apologized to me for something and then turned around to do it again the moment he thought he had my forgiveness!” Hermione’s anger was full force, and, if the look on his face was anything to go by, so was Draco’s. He opened his mouth again, likely to hurl another insult her way, but then stopped suddenly, and blinked at her and closed it again.

“What?”

“Ron’s an idiot and a coward, this isn’t news to me Malfoy.” She tapped her foot frustrated, but her anger was giving way to a feeling of being off balance, starting in the very back of her mind. Relieved that it was going away finally, she sat down once more. “Well if you’re quite done, I have a lot of work to finish today, and hardly enough time to complete it.” She pulled out a quill. Draco gaped at her, bewildered. “Oh and don’t worry about Ron. I doubt he’ll do anything else after I have some words with him.” Her tone turned dark at the end, she was certainly going to have more than just words. She was going to tear into him. It was none of his business who she studied with, and he was not allowed to chase off people who dared to talk to her, Slytherin or not.

“I…” Draco seemed to be at a loss for a moment, but he finally pulled himself together and sat down as well. He looked across the table at her parchment. “What are you working on, anyway?”

“Transfiguration. It’s an extra credit assignment,” she said distractedly as she skimmed her textbook.

“Oh? What’s the topic? Vertebrate to invertebrate transfigurations?” he hazarded. Hermione looked up from the book.

“Yes. How’d you know?” she said, surprised. She wasn’t even on the right page yet.

“Honestly Granger, for the brightest witch of our generation, you miss quite a lot. Obviously McGonagall taught us that as well. In fact, I finished my essay yesterday,” he said, rolling his eyes at her. “The textbook won’t help you at all. It’s quite lacking on the subject.” He stood up and abruptly left Hermione alone in silence. She gave a mental shrug and returned to her reading anyway, but she didn’t get very far before she was startled by the sound of a very heavy book being dropped in front of her.

Draco was standing next to her, a smirk planted on his face, as a plume of dust engulfed both of them. Hermione’s nose itched and she attempted to stifle a sneeze unsuccessfully, which seemed to amuse Draco as his smirk grew. 

He opened the book and flipped to a certain page, releasing more dust into the air, which caused him to sneeze as well, to Hermione’s great delight. He turned the open book to her, gesturing at the title of the chapter.

“ _ Transfiguration of the Living _ by Duncan Mouw, Chapter Fourteen: Removing the Spines,” he said, with a self-satisfied grin. 

“Uh, thanks,” Hermione replied, tentatively pulling the book closer and skimming the contents of the first page. After the first few paragraphs, a smile graced her features. “This will actually help a lot, Malfoy,” she said, looking up as he returned to his seat. Draco crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. He looked positively smug.

“I know. I based my whole essay on the information in there.” Just as he finished saying this, a loud grumble emanated from his abdomen. Hermione quirked a brow.

“Exactly how long have you been in here?” she asked him as she just noticed that the table was covered in unorderly stacks of potions books. 

“I may have skipped lunch,” Draco admitted with a grimace. “I was in a rather foul mood and felt it best to spare my house from it.” There was another grumble, much to his embarrassment. Hermione was still hungry, but she was sure she would survive, her lunch hadn't exactly been small. 

She reached into her bag and pulled out the carefully wrapped sandwich she had filched at lunch. She slid it across the table, and at Draco’s questioning glance, she sighed.

“Open it,” she insisted. He did, but when the sandwich was revealed, he set it back down and glared at her. It didn’t take much for her to realize what was going through his head. “Jesus, Draco it’s not poisoned. Just eat the sandwich, God.” She decided not to pay him any mind. She really did have work to do. The book would definitely speed things up for her, but she was never one for wasting time, and she certainly wasn’t going to bother herself with undue worry about whether or not her offering would be snubbed. 

It wasn’t until several minutes later, that she realized he was indeed eating the sandwich. She only spared him a single glance, but he happened to look at her at the same moment and their eyes locked. Draco gave her a defensive look as if daring her to comment. She just raised her eyebrows and felt her lips twist into a mild smirk, no matter how she tried to suppress it. Draco just narrowed his eyes and returned to his reading. 

Hermione finished her essay just in time for her next class, which likely wouldn’t have been the case if she hadn’t known what book to read from. She was surprised to feel a great sense of gratitude towards Draco. He really had helped. Also, her hunger had mysteriously vanished some time ago, and she was only now realizing it. Draco was trying to gather all the books he had collected over the past few hours into his arms to bring them to the reshelving cart —Madam Pomfrey hated it when students misshelved books— but was clearly having some trouble. Hermione finished packing up her things and then picked up some of the books herself. He had saved her hours of research, the least she could do was save him a trip. He didn’t say anything, just studied her face for a moment before turning.

“Come on then. Class starts in ten minutes.”

They dropped off the books without a problem, and left the library together, pausing briefly just outside the doors. Hermione fidgeted for a moment before gathering her courage and turning towards him.

“Thanks for h-”

“I suppose I sh-’

They both stopped and looked at each other. Hermione gestured that Draco should speak first. He opened his mouth slowly and began speaking cautiously as if he expected to be cut off again.

“I suppose, I should thank you for the sandwich,” he conceded. 

“Nonsense. Honestly, I’m surprised you dared to eat it,” she teased. “I also wanted thank you for the book. It helped. A lot.”

“Just returning the favor,” he replied. 

“Oh and, like I said, don’t worry about Ron. I’ll make sure he doesn’t try anything again,” she said, face darkening.

“I’d appreciate that,” Draco said. “Goodbye, Granger.”

“Bye,” she said and then watched him stride away, before forcing her gaze off his retreating back and making her way to Arithmancy.

**Author's Note:**

> Updates are every Monday


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